


Always Yes

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Anal, Domination, Egbertcest, Incest, M/M, Multi, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James had never been able to say no to his son. When John grows older, however, he finds that he's not the only one answering the steady demanding tone that can only be answered with agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Yes

“A-ah.. Higher. Higher, yes. YES, oh god, yes. Yes, just.. a-aaahhh... Ahhhh, just.. Just keep going. FUCK.”

Simple phrases were giving way to noises and primal grunts now, heavy panting and the wet slapping sound of skin on skin, the dull creak of bed springs. Thank God the headboard didn't touch the wall at all. It would have been chipping paint just from today alone. John was fairly certain he'd be hoarse when this was over. Perfect. All the better to spend the night, throaty and crackling on the phone. There were a few calls to make. A few favors to call in.

His father, after all, loved spoiling his boy. Whatever John wanted, he got. Be it a toy when he was younger, a kiss when he was older, and unquestioned access to his father whenever he wished by the time he was old enough to have a valid enough opinion on such things.

Flirting had taken ages, and had worn James ragged, unsure what to do. He couldn't say no. Not to John. Not to his John. First had come the too long hugs, the brief touches to his shoulders, unannounced entering into the bathroom after a shower or when he was sure to be getting changed for work. Then had come the brief kisses in the hallways or at night, John continuing over and over to assert himself and his desires against the face that turned away hesitantly. 

That hadn't been flirting so much as a predator stalking its prey, the more James looked back.

It hadn't only been him, either.

When John was old enough to start making his own decisions about his body, to start dating, to have 'The Talk' even though it was apparently not needed at all, he began seeking out others. James had been relieved, actually, to see John leading his friend Dave home after school more and more often. Had felt comforted as he heard the heavy breathing and shuddering sighs from behind closed doors, started seeing hickeys on the side of his sons throat. 

They were the same age. They were close. John seemed to wear the pants in the relationship, bossy and headstrong, but the Strider boy seemed content to follow the string that kept him neatly tied around John's slender fingers. James baked treats to celebrate the growth of what he assumed was a normal relationship and looked forward to the right time to give them over.

Then, John was no longer bringing only Dave home with him. Along on these little jaunts came another blonde, a good deal older. Sketchy looking, from how James viewed his dressing pattern. Related to Dave..? They had the same jawline, the same nose, the same faint upturn at the edges of their almond shaped eyes when they turned to the side, visible behind those sunglasses they wore indoors.

He'd hoped the addition of another person in the room would at least clear things up. Maybe slow down the hormones his son had been reveling in so thoroughly.

James had been wrong.

The sounds were nightly now, and just as vigorous as before if not more. All three of them seemed to be up to something, judging from the differences in noises that filtered down through the ceilings of the white house from John's room upstairs.

The older man barely made sound, but James could tell when he was active. Heavy gestures and steps, harder hammers of the headboard smacking the wall, moans and gasps from both teenagers. John's voice, though it had already dropped, still wound up higher in pitch when he was... active. There was no way not to recognize the voice of his son in the throes of sex when in comparison to the noises of the two blondes that accompanied him. It became maddening.

What were they doing, precisely, that made him make those sounds? Was he dominant somehow still as his attitude and posture seemed to dictate? Or was he bottoming for either, or both of these men and calling the shots? Maybe it was all a front and the flirting was just that: flirting. He'd been practicing on his father before going out and making his choices. That had to be it.

That would be as far as it went: John leading the small Strider clan along to his bedroom, not releasing either of the blonde's till long after his own curfew would have been up outside of the house, then only to go shower and get food and sleep. 

Months that went on.

Months of scarce words with his own son, knowing that afternoons and evenings were more than accounted for, trying to squeeze in all his fatherly duties and his own needs in the mornings. Trying to distract himself in the evening, not wanting to be chased out of his own home because of sexual frustration that his son was causing him to experience.

James hadn't actually felt the need to masturbate this much since college, and was growing more and more tense from how unsatisfying it was proving to be for him.

Months of banging headboards and high, sweet moans.

Then, his sweet, loving son had taken the reins from him. Had he even held them in the first place..? Or had John always been holding them, even as a child, leading him along to do his bidding? The prodigal spoiled son with his eye on some distant prize, come at last in the night with purpose.

The blonde's hadn't shown up for a few days, and John was starting to spend more time downstairs in the evenings. Just like he used to. Dinner, some movies on television together or just simple talk, catching up on time. Grades. Work. Small talk. There came a night when James was just about to ask if John had gone through a breakup or things had gone sour with the Striders, but thought better of it.

That wording isn't quite correct however. There was nothing to think better of, considering that before he was able to get the words out to his son he was getting an open mouthed kiss. Those beautiful, talented hands he was so proud of were busily tangling in his hair, carding through the salt and pepper fondly. Keeping enough of a grip to steer his father closer if the grip on his tie wasn't directive enough.

“Daddy,” he said when air was finally needed, dropping back into a childish way of speaking that was discomfiting for James as he lifted a slender leg up and over both the larger thighs in a solid straddle. “Why've you been ignoring me lately?” There was a momentary pause before he leaned forward even further to press foreheads, voice a whisper. “Haven't you been curious yet...?”

“..Curious about what, John?” he managed to croak. Was his voice that close to cracking? Please, God, just keep his dick under control. Keep it down where it was supposed to be, sleeping. A shower would fix this. Ice cold shower if heat and his hand wasn't enough. Never enough now.

“About what I've been doing lately,” John said simply. His posture hadn't changed an inch. That same, easy sit across his lap, the tug of a crisp tie, the firm stroking of well maintained wiry hair. Possessive. He imagined John would stroke an expensive pet the same way, holding it firmly before gliding down its shoulders and back. Had the Striders allowed him to pet them that same way?

“But.. We already discussed that earlier,” James stammered, trying to keep focused. His son looked so different now, judging him despite his eyes being soothing. Shoosh shoosh now, Papa, don't lie to me. He was absolutely certain that somehow, some way, John could read his thoughts and look straight through to his soul.

John snickered, almost a giggle. A strange sound to hear from him now that puberty had hit and done away with such things. Unless he was causing the headboard to bang behind closed doors, at least.

“Oh Daddy.” That word again. Danger. Danger. What was coming that was more intense than what was already happening, John rocking his hips forwards slowly and sensually, rolling the joints as if they were made only to do this to him now. “I mean about everything else I've been doing.”

“I... Well, son. What -have- you been doing then?” Regain ground, quick, please. The conversation was going further and further down the faster he tried to keep control of himself. Controlling himself wasn't an option.

John had it all.

“Oh, a lot. I learned precisely how to make a man fall to his knees and beg, for one. Age doesn't matter,” he was quick to clarify, adding in an extra scritch to the wiry scalp he was stroking for good measure. Such a good father. “Depends on how much ego is at stake.. It might be different if I topped much. But for the most part I learned I can get a man to do precisely what I want. When I want. How I want it. ...Isn't that interesting, Daddy? Are you proud?”

Proud? Proud to learn his son was claiming such things, despite knowing that somehow, some way, they had been going on the entire time? Proud that he'd let this continue under his roof without so much as a peep against it?

Proud that he wanted, in some deep part of his soul, to see it up close for himself?

“... Yes. I suppose I am proud. I always am of you, John.” The sentiment almost sounded pathetic in this situation, his son casually riding against his crotch, trying to get its attention as he held his head. A straight forward snake charmer, heavy on the charm. “I'm proud you learned what you.. well. What you like, and want. I'm proud you're confident enough to attain what you want.”

John laughed then, pressing their foreheads together once more.

“Confidence doesn't mean anything when it comes to this, Daddy. See. I don't have to be confident at all. So long as I know what I want, I know there will be other people desperate to give it. I take my pick.. usually.”

He was pressing harder now with his fingers, tugging the tie harder with his fist, showing a touch of anger. Frustration.

“You see.. USUALLY, I do get everything I want. Except with you.” The pressure lessened, the anger ebbed. He was using his softer voice now, questioning. “Did you never get curious, Daddy? Never wanted to see what I was doing? No fatherly checks, or peeks? … No fatherly hot showers to try clearing your head at midnight?”

Busted. Of course John knew, the sound of the shower was loud enough to be heard damn near anywhere in the house, and it was always after his 'guests' had departed. 

“... John, what do you want me to even say?” James finally got out. “What do you want me to do.”

There it was. The smile as the right words were said, and James was almost certain he was feeling a noose tighten around his neck instead of the guide of the tie.

“I want you to say, 'yes'. Say yes to whatever I want, same as always, Daddy. Say yes to me. It'll make me happy.. and I'm more than sure I can make you happy too.”

Had John always been able to purr like that, or was it only coming out as a purr when he was this close and breathy and warm and oh sweet Jesus no, why was his dick responding so eagerly to a simple sentence. This was wrong on so many levels. He'd managed to resist, to keep away from the innocent flirting and testing, been what he thought was a good role model. James was sure he'd been a good father up till this point. Yet, there now stood the truth of his interest after a single invitation from his son and the well practiced act of frottage, an iron bar of discomfort that John seemed more than happy to dance against.

“Yes, then. Yes, John.”

God forgive him, he could never say no to John.

Since that time, when the flirting had given way to outright agreement, James had learned that his son was not to be trifled with when it came to his words. He'd not been putting on airs when he spoke of being able to make men beg, nor of being able to make him happy.

By the first week, John had trained his father to kiss him back eagerly as a love starved creature was possible whenever he wanted. By the second, he was able to coax him down onto his knees, kissing his legs and feet, stripping either himself or John down when desired.

By the third week, he was occasionally being touched, but never relieved. The third week was Hell. The third week, the Striders came back, this time keeping the door open for their guest of honor and a spare seat ready for him to enjoy the show.

John had both men under his control, there was no doubting. Dave, more noticeably. He seemed to enjoy being dominated, being bossed around, following orders. It didn't matter if it was humiliating. If John ordered it, he obeyed. This was how James first realized that, for at least some of the noises, John had only been watching as the two blondes partook of each other on the twin bed. For the rest, he was indeed receiving one of them and, in one amazing instance that made him wince at the idea, John took both at the same time.

For being quiet, for listening to John's orders and not touching himself, James was gifted relief by way of his sons loyal dogs. Dave took the lead with his hands, a little unsure despite wanting to follow directions, considering whose dick it was he was touching. Bro wound up butting him out of the way to take over himself with his mouth, showing no such reservations. He was brash, braver. Attractive with his mouth full and his fingers exploring, more than happy to let his younger sibling go back to John's side to kiss at his neck.

It took over a month before John finally came forward to James with more specific demands of him alone. Waiting to catch him after work in the living room, already naked and asking his father to settle on his knees, giving directions on where he wanted to be touched and tasted, orders on how fast or far. Praise was Spartan, but to hear John happy was somehow the best thing in the world.

James realized he really was living to keep John happy at this point. Always smiling. The breathless cry of 'Daddy!' as he came, knees clenching at either side of his head as he'd suckled him dry had been music. John was happy. Everything was good, better than he'd ever imagined it could be. 

Saying yes was so much easier than the years of trying to dance around the word 'no'. John was happy, cheerful, more open than he'd been in years. Meals were made together now, and evenings spent curled up watching television in James' bed. They showered together half the time, but often got distracted till the water ran cold. The Striders were common guests, sometimes even staying whole weekends by the time John had properly trained James in how he enjoyed sex, and how he expected to be properly topped.

Throaty, hoarse as he had expected, John called Dave that night to plan ahead of time. While he couldn't handle anything else this evening, he said, both he and his father would be home and bored tomorrow. They'd adore some company, and were even throwing a nice dinner into the meal. James had sprung for some saffron earlier in the week, and was dying to try a new recipe with it, after all. Who better to spoil with good food than their favorite playmates?

\- - - - -

Dinner had been quick enough, though savored. James was satisfied in his role of host, making sure everyone had plenty of everything. John had perfect table manners, Dave kept his elbows off the table, and Bro seemed willing to keep the conversation topics wholesome for once. Everyone was a member of the clean plate club when John first stretched and headed upstairs without a word to James' room. It was the only space big enough for all of them to move freely as they wanted to, with no risks for injuries caused by the twin bed simply not being designed to hold two fully grown adult men and two wiry teens who seemed to still be all elbows.

No romance, no seduction, no sweet words. John had simply gotten up on his own and left. The command to follow was absolute to the point that it never needed to be mentioned. They all knew what he wanted, where he wanted it, and how he wanted it. Knew he would give instructions, that smile, the praise. 

Saying “Yes” to John was easiest to do, after all. Keeping him happy was the best thing there was, and following his guidance and orders to get what he wanted wound up with everyone else happy in their own ways.

Why, James wondered, had he ever wanted to say “No”?

Dave said “Yes” when John paired him off with James for the first part of the evening, wanting to watch them together from Bro's lap on the other side of the bed, reaching out with soft fingers to touch and stroke and pinch and slap as he wished. James wound up with handmarks all over his ass, Dave with bruises from bites even as things began to warm up and he grew frantic, all too eager to tangle his lanky limbs with the thicker pair.

James said “Yes” when John asked him to let Bro join in then. It wasn't the first time that James had been with Bro by then, and the two had formed a bit of a rapport even when John wasn't leading the show. They were compatible in a strange way, and moving together in any combination was pleasant. Were his son not leading them both along like a well oriented ringmaster, he might have even sought a more standard relationship with the man.

John didn't join in till he was good and ready, Dave already spent and exhausted, trying to catch his breath as he lay on his side, James and Bro still caught up in enjoying each other. That came to a rather abrupt end, though neither party was very happy about it, Bro irritated and aching as he moved to make room for the brunette. 

He didn't even have to ask to know what John wanted to do, could feel the familiar phantom noose around his neck. More precisely, he supposed, it should be some kind of a bit in his mouth. John held the reins now. When his son moved to part his legs and settle close, nudging insistently at his opening with his thus far unattended erection, he wasted to time in answering.

“Daddy, can I-”

“Yes, John. Yes.”

Always yes.


End file.
